


liar

by becausemagnets



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-27 23:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2710877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becausemagnets/pseuds/becausemagnets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Bucky’s breath comes out like a little shudder and his toes curl in his socks. Did Steve read that in a book? Should Bucky read a book?</i>
</p><p> shameless PWP</p>
            </blockquote>





	liar

**Author's Note:**

> um I can't really say anything in defense of this except that I found out that vaseline was invented in 1872 and I woke up and wrote this in one sitting and that's. Yeah.

“I don’t want to die a virgin.” 

That’s Steve well-thought out response to Pearl Harbor. Their entire art class had been stopped, floored by the news that the war had touched American soil. They’d ridden the train home in silence, like ghosts, like the rest of New York. And when they got home, Bucky expected Steve to say something profound about the American spirit, how the entire nation would recover, a comment on the bravery of the men about to be shipped overseas like cargo, but instead he says, “I don’t want to die a virgin.” 

Bucky scrubs a hand down his face. He’s laid out on the floor, closest to the furnace. It’s faulty, but he can’t get their landlord to fix it and he doesn’t have the money or the time to hire a journeyman to do it, so they’re stuck with it turning off and on and sometimes burning a spot in the hardwood floor. Which the landlord would probably have Bucky pay to fix if they ever scrounged up enough money to actually move. Maybe with sending his stipend back to Steve, they’d be able to afford it. He didn’t feel like arguing with Steve about the fact that Pearl Harbor had really nothing to do with Steve’s impending death and everything to do with his own, so he goes another route. 

“It’s a bit late in the day to find you a date, but I don’t know, maybe a national tragedy will make a dame more pliable.” He sits up, folding his knees to his chest and nearly laughs at the aghast look on Steve’s face. 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Hey, I’m not the one who said anything about having sex! You’re the one that opened this door, not me.” He throws his hands up in mock surrender. “If you’re deathly serious, I can probably spare you a dollar or two for a… lady of the night. How much money you got saved? Usually they ask for twenty, which I know is a lot, but maybe if you tell them it’s your first time, they’ll drop it down to--” 

Steve throws a hand up to stop Bucky, pink spreading across his cheeks. “It’s not that dire.” 

“Well, I don’t know, you seemed pretty serious about it. Look, I’m here to help.” Bucky stands up, pulling the sleeves of his thermal shirt over his hands. He sits on the couch next to Steve, throwing his legs up and across Steve’s lap. Steve shifts, more blood rushing to his face and coloring his cheeks, but he doesn’t knock Bucky’s legs off of him. Probably wants the added warmth. 

“I don’t want a prostitute, okay?” He tries to level a threatening look at Bucky over his shoulder, but it’s not really that threatening. His threatening looks never are. Bucky nods sternly anyway. “I’d like it to be--special, you know?” 

Bucky tries not to laugh. He laughs anyway. “God, you really are a girl.” 

Steve leans over and weakly punches Bucky in the chest. His hand lingers, his knuckles brushing against Bucky’s shirt a beat too long. Bucky furrows his brow, but doesn’t say anything. Steve pulls his hand back like his fingers touched flame. Something weird is going on. There is something Steve is not saying. 

“What was your first time like? I mean, you’ve had… sex, right?” Pink cheeks, but he’s staring Bucky right in the eye. 

“Of course I’ve had sex.” A lie, but Steve doesn't need to know that. Bucky has a reputation of debauchery to maintain. He’d kissed a lot of girls, a lot of times, but his mother’s voice was always in the back of his head, so he never let it go any further than that. It’s probably the only good thing about having a shitty water heater. He can, at this point, probably consider himself a cold shower professional. “It was… nice. I mean, it’s always nice. But it wasn’t like fireworks and a chorus of angels. It’s not that big of a deal, Steve.” He reaches out and places his hand on Steve’s shoulder. His hand is shaking, for some reason (cold, it’s because it’s cold), but Steve doesn’t seem to notice. “It’ll happen when it happens, Steve. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” 

“It just seems important, a right of passage.” He’s speaking with finality. One of his ‘I’ve got a plan’ speeches. Oh boy. “I don’t think that men should be laying their lives on the line without ever having lived it. I think that it’s one of the most important things that two people can share and I don’t want the war to start without having experienced it with someone. Someone who cares about me, is important to me.” 

“Is this going somewhere because I haven’t really seen you getting close with very many women, Steve. If you’re asking me to set you up, that’s a lot of pressure, that speech, I think you’ll need to tone it down a little if you expect--” 

“I think my first time should be with you.” 

Bucky’s feet hit the floor with a thud. His ears feel hot. His whole face feels hot. He is hot under the collar of his shirt. What is going on? “I’m not--queer, Steve.” 

“Oh, neither am I,” Steve says quickly. He scoots closer to Bucky on the couch. It takes everything in Bucky’s power to not sink back into the arm, away from him. “But I just think--we should. I mean, you’re important to me. Hell, you’re basically all I’ve got. If I wanted my first time to be special, you’d be number one on the list.” 

“I don’t think I can do that, Steve. I like dames. No offense, you just don’t have the parts to really do it for me, fella.” He’s still so hot, why is it so hot all of the sudden? The furnace must be on full burn mode, but he doesn’t smell it and it’s really, really hot. Steve looks sort of affected too, his eyes bright and his skin a little shiny, flushed and not pink anymore. He’s too close to Bucky, sitting on the edge of the cushion with his hands tucked underneath him, looking like an overeager kid. Which is probably pretty accurate. “What got this idea in your head, anyway? All this Pearl Harbor stuff? I know it’s scary, but that doesn’t mean you have to go--doing that.” 

“Your ears are red, Buck.” 

“‘S hot,” he mumbles, pushing the sleeves of his thermal up his forearms. “Aren’t you hot?” 

“No, Buck, it’s like forty degrees in here.” Steve scoots another inch or two closer, pressing his thigh against Bucky’s. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. But I’ve done a lot of research--” 

“Research? Sex research?” 

“Yeah. I read some books. I think I can make it--not a problem for you, that I’m a guy.” 

“Oh, and how’s that? Magic? Gonna grow a pair of tits?” He feels bad for being so crass, almost apologizes, but Steve doesn’t look hurt. 

He sinks to the floor, knees hitting the hardwood with a little thunk. He puts his hands, shaking, on Bucky’s thighs. Bucky feels dizzy, overwhelmed. Steve’s running his hands up and down on Bucky's thighs, cold even through his thermals. “What--what are you gonna do?” Why is Steve so in control? He’s a virgin, too, he shouldn’t be so cool, calm, and collected about all this. And on his knees. And licking his really pink lips. It’s really hot in their apartment. Far too hot. It’s like the middle of August. 

Steve’s fingers are freezing when he tucks them under the waistband of Bucky’s thermal pants, snapping it against Bucky’s stomach with a wry smile on his face. Bucky’s not sure how he never noticed, but Steve has really long eyelashes. Long enough that they brush his cheeks every time he closes his eyes. Amazing. Oh, god. 

“I’m gonna suck you.” 

“Suck me?” Bucky’s voice cracks. Jesus. “You don’t have to do that.” He tries to push Steve’s hand away and sink further into the couch, but Steve slots himself perfectly between Bucky’s legs and he’s got his ‘no arguments’ face on. “Look, Steve, even good girls don’t do stuff like that. You really don’t have to do that.” 

“So I was right.” His hands are getting dangerously close to Bucky’s---yeah. Sweat is starting to bead up on his neck. His muscles feel all tense and rubbery, out of his control. He should knee Steve in the face and lock his bedroom door and pretend it never happened, but Steve’s got his ‘no arguments’ face on. He’s not supposed to argue. There really is no arguing with Steve when he gets his face like that. 

“Right about what?” He scrubs a hand down his neck, trying to cool himself down, but his palms are clammy and hot and shaking. This is terrible, this is all terrible. 

“That no one’s ever done that to you before. I wanted to be your first something, too.” And with that, he pulls Bucky’s thermals down passed his knees. Bucky has to lift his hips. He’s denying that was a decision. It was a reflex. Someone pulls your pants down, you lift your hips, it didn’t mean he was doing this. That they were doing this. _I’m gonna suck you_ , Jesus. 

Bucky’s kind of… interested. Steve raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s not totally interested, to his own credit, so he can still pretend like this is happening _to_ him and he’s not an active participant. Steve huffs on his hands and then one of his hands is on Bucky and it’s… It sort of feels like an electric shock going up his spine and straight into his dick. Steve’s hands are really… nice. Bigger that a girls, but he has nice, delicate fingers and no callouses on his hands and Bucky can almost pretend it’s a girl’s hand if he really wants to. Which he does. 

Except he’s not closing his eyes. He’s watching Steve’s hand on his dick, moving slow. Steve brushes his thumb over the head of his dick and Bucky’s breath comes out like a little shudder and his toes curl in his socks. Did Steve read that in a book? Should Bucky read a book? 

“You like that, huh?” Steve’s smiling and it’s patently obscene, his eyes dark with the pupils blown wide. He does it again before Bucky can deny it and Bucky whimpers, lifting his hips up off the couch and up into Steve’s palm. Steve laughs, but it’s low in his throat, a couple of octaves deeper than his normal voice, and it makes this warm, distressing pool of heat in Bucky’s stomach. 

He wraps his hand around Bucky again and starts moving it very slowly, his eyes trained on Bucky’s face like he’s charting every minute response. Bucky’s face feels hot and he wants to shut his eyes, really, really wants to shut his eyes, and pretend that one of the red-headed girls in their drawing class has got her hand down his pants in the back room, but he can’t take his eyes off of what Steve’s hand is doing, the fact that Steve’s lips are slightly parted, and that his tongue keeps darting out to run along his bottom lip. 

“Want my mouth now?” Steve tilts his head when he asks and Bucky feels like punching him. You can’t look that innocent when you’re asking about--that. 

“I--if you want. I mean, this is fine, too, I, uh--” Bucky scrubs a hand down his face, biting his lip to keep from making any sound of protest when Steve takes his hand off of Bucky’s dick. Steve is standing up. Bucky’s confused, but he doesn’t want to act like he was expecting Steve to--to suck him, so he tries to act like he’s perfectly comfortable lounging on the couch with his pants around his ankles and his hard dick, rock hard and leaking, bobbing against his stomach. 

“Can I ask you a favor?” Steve runs a hand through his hair, self-conscious. Bucky wants to touch himself, really, really, really badly, but he just blinks up at Steve, nods. “I’ve never, uh, kissed anyone. Can I kiss you before I…?” 

Kiss him. 

Kiss Steve. 

Jesus. 

Steve’s a head taller than Bucky, standing over him on the couch, but Bucky leans up, grabs a fistful of Steve’s shirt and crushes their mouths together. Steve kisses like it’s his first kiss, sloppy and wet and desperate, but he groans into Bucky’s mouth when Bucky’s tongue slides between his parted lips, groans like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and Bucky can feel Steve’s eyelashes on his own cheek and it’s… nice. It’s really nice. 

Jesus. 

Bucky pulls away with a little smack. Steve’s breathless, his lips bigger and wetter and redder, and he smiles, wide, and then he’s back on his knees with a thunk, running his hands up and down Bucky’s bare thighs. 

“Okay,” Steve says, with finality. Another speech. What a time. Bucky can feel Steve’s breath on his dick and it’s kind of… maddening, really. He feels like he’s about to crawl out of his skin if Steve doesn’t actually get his mouth on him. “I’ve read about how it feels and the best way to do it, but I’ve never… I’m sure it’s very different in practice and I don’t want you to set your expectations too high. Also, I’m not sure about my throat, like how much I can take. You’re, uh, bigger--” Bucky blushes. Fuck-- “than I expected, so you have to promise me you won’t hold my head down or lift your hips up. All right?” Bucky doesn’t say anything. He’s watching Steve’s hands going up and down on his thighs. He thinks for a second that Steve’s hands are shaking, but it’s Bucky’s legs that are shaking. “Bucky. All right?” 

“I--yeah, all right. Won’t do that.” 

Steve’s lips are warm and Bucky feels like all the air has been slammed out of his lungs. Steve’s bottom lip rubs the head of his dick and then there’s his tongue, darting out to do a quick circle, the same circle his thumb had done, and Bucky’s not sure what to do with his hands, so he plunks them heavily on Steve’s shoulders, tries to breathe through his nose so he doesn’t end up making too much noise, but that terrifyingly warm feeling is spreading from his stomach down his legs, up the small of his back, down into his toes. He involuntarily tightens his legs around Steve’s body, squeezes him between his calves as he hisses in his breath. 

“Good?” A thin layer of spit extends between Bucky’s dick and Steve’s lips and Bucky feels, absurdly, like crying. Steve’s eyes are wide, genuinely concerned that Bucky doesn’t like it, and it’s all too much. 

Bucky strips off his shirt, his skin red and blotchy and flushed. “Yeah, you’re good. Don’t stop.” 

So much tongue. His tongue dragging on the underside of Bucky’s dick and it’s taking everything in his power not to tangle his fingers in Steve’s hair, knead the back of his head with his fingers, insist. Steve pulls his lips back once and then he’s down again, swallowing around more of Bucky’s dick, his cheeks hollowing out, and he flicks his eyes up to Bucky, meets them through those ridiculous eyelashes and Bucky’s not sure he’s going to be thinking about a girl ever again. Bucky digs his fingers into Steve’s shoulders and Steve tries to swallow more, gags around him, and pulls off, shaking his head. His eyes are watering at the corners, but Bucky’s seen his determined face enough time and he can tell by the way Steve is sizing him up, he’s not going to give up until he swallows the entirety of Bucky’s length. Even if he has to try all night. 

Jesus. 

He’s bobbing faster and Bucky lets his head loll back on the couch, his grip on Steve’s shoulders making his fingertips white and he’s seeing stars, barely breathing to keep himself from being loud enough to wake the neighbors. “You don’t have to--ahh--take it all, Steve, you can go slower, it’s not a--ahh--race, _fuck_.” Those eyes again and he’s about an inch from taking everything without gagging, but his eyes are watering again. Bucky reaches up at wipes at the corners of Steve's eyes, guides Steve’s hands to his own hips to remind himself not to lift them into the warm comfort of Steve’s mouth. When Steve pulls off, wiping at his mouth, and grins, satisfied at himself, it takes everything in his power not to lean forward and kiss the smile right off of his face. 

Jesus. 

“You think you’re hard enough to fuck me?” Steve tucks the hair that’s fallen into his face behind one of his ears and stands up, his smile turning somewhat more… vulgar. Bucky’s stomach is up in his chest and his dick is jumping just thinking about it. 

“You really… I never done that to a guy before, Steve, I don’t know how it works. You know, dames are already… wet down there, doesn’t take… I don’t know anything about it.” 

“Don’t worry.” Steve reaches out for Bucky’s hand. He takes it. “I’ll show you.” 

They have two twin mattresses pushed together in their one bedroom. It makes sense in the winter as their combined body heat is probably the only thing that keeps the two of them alive when the furnace kicks off, but they don’t move them apart in the summer necessarily either. It’s habit forming, falling asleep together. This, hopefully, isn’t habit forming. 

Bucky’s heart is pounding in his chest. Steve sinks onto the bed, knees first, and leans over his shoulder to smile reassuringly at Bucky. “I bought some vaseline, real cheap. Just a penny. We’re gonna use that, okay? And I still got those rubbers you bought for my birthday.” 

Bucky should feel ridiculous, standing at the end of the bed stark naked, but something about Steve’s calm is rubbing off on him. He sinks to his knees and crawls toward Steve, over him, pressing a kiss between Steve’s still clothed shoulder blades. “We don’t have to do this, you know,” he says, quietly, his lips still pressed into Steve’s shirt. “Your honor can remain intact for another night.” 

Steve cranes his neck back and kisses him, all tongue, their teeth clicking, and then pulls back to shake his head. “I’m ready.” 

Bucky takes Steve’s clothes off slowly, layer by layer, kissing and licking and sucking every inch of skin he can get his mouth on. Steve’s body is freezing cold against him, so he tries to cover as much of him as possible, hissing in breaths every time his tender dick brushes against Steve. When he gets Steve’s undershirt off and over his head, Steve pushes him away, a hard elbow to his chest. “I can do the rest.” 

He gets a hand on his belt buckle, but Bucky puts his hands over Steve’s, color rushing to his face. “I want to,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper, so deep he barely recognizes it. 

Steve lets him. Bucky’s hands are shaking, but he doesn’t fumble, undoing the buckle slowly, his fingers lingering against the front of Steve’s pants. Steve lets his eyes slip shut, breathing hard through his seasonably stuffed up nose. Bucky undoes the fasten of his pants, popping all three buttons in one smooth motion. Steve’s got three pairs of thermals on underneath his pants and Bucky shoves them all down and pulls them off of Steve’s feet. Steve’s as hard as Bucky himself and shivering. Bucky covers Steve’s body with his own again, pressing an urgent kiss to Steve’s collarbone. 

“We don’t have to do this,” he reminds him again, hands straying down Steve’s chest. Steve still hasn’t opened his eyes. He turns his head and catches Bucky’s lips, wrapping his legs tight around Bucky’s waist at the same time. Steve’s dick is against Bucky’s stomach, his own pressing against the back of Steve’s legs, and he’s warm all over, that feeling of pooled heat that had started in his stomach stretching out to every single part of his body. 

Bucky Barnes knows about sex. Or at least, he knows about talking about sex. He has a reputation, after all. But all the talk he’d picked up in the factories and the docks and listening to his father’s friends in smoky bars after they’d come back from the war hadn’t included this feeling. It had all sounded arousing, fun, but perfunctory, like something that was done to pass the time. And it was always done _to_ their partners, the girls, never anything like this. Bucky didn’t feel like he’d made a single choice all night. Steve is steering this ship and Bucky is good at following him, anywhere he chooses to go. One of the only things he’s good at. Sex hadn’t sounded like that. Like he had a furnace ready to explode inside him, roaring every time Steve touched him. Maybe it had been worth the wait. 

“Roll over,” Bucky whispers in Steve’s ear and Steve obliges, craning to press himself as close to Bucky as possible. Bucky kisses down Steve’s neck and spine, flicking his tongue into every divot between Steve's prominent vertebrae. Steve’s got his head in the circle of his arms, but his body lifts a little every time Bucky moves his mouth, the only response he’s getting out of him. He runs his tongue all the way down Steve’s back, stopping at the smallest part, breathing hard against his skin. 

And then he slides his tongue down the crack of Steve’s ass, all the way to his balls, and then all the way back up, laughing against him as Steve yelps. He slaps a hand to the back of Bucky’s neck, digging his fingernails in desperately. “What are you doing?” Steve’s whole body is red, flushed. Bucky puts his hands firmly on either side of Steve’s waist, and Steve wiggles against his face, practically panting. 

“You didn’t read about that in a book, huh? Does it feel good? I can do it again, if you want.” He runs his hands down to Steve’s ass cheeks. As skinny as the rest of him is, his ass fits perfectly in Bucky’s palms. He digs his fingers in, appreciatively, and spreads gently, giving himself more room. He swirls his tongue around Steve’s hole experimentally when Steve doesn’t say anything. Steve hasn’t moved his hand, even though he’s folding his own body in half, and when Bucky presses his tongue with more urgency against him, Steve digs his fingernails in hard enough to draw a hiss out of Bucky. 

Bucky dips his tongue in, wrapping his lips tight around Steve, and Steve shifts his weight back, forcing Bucky’s tongue farther in. Bucky laps at him experimentally and Steve’s whole body is shivering. He’s biting his forearm to keep from making too much noise, but he’s whimpering even with his mouth full. He pushes himself back against Bucky’s face hard enough to make his nose hurt and digs his nails in even harder every time Bucky comes up for air, whining desperately against his arm. 

“Okay,” Bucky breathes against Steve’s skin, kissing his way back up to Steve’s neck despite his protests. He keeps one hand on Steve’s ass, kneading. “Tell me what to do next.” 

“Fingers,” Steve groans, pushing himself up higher on his elbows. There is a huge, bruised bite mark on his forearm. Good thing it’s December. “Put some petroleum jelly on your fingers and put ‘em in.” 

Bucky dips the index and middle finger of his left hand in the vaseline, getting a generous amount on both fingertips. He rubs it all the way down passed his third knuckle on both fingers. He runs one knuckle along the crack of Steve’s ass, groaning himself when Steve pushes back against him. 

“That feels good, huh?” he huffs out, and Steve groans back, leaning forward to bite his forearm again. Bucky presses the knuckle harder against Steve’s entrance, rubbing in slow circles, but not pushing, and Steve is whining again. 

Bucky alternates between pressing his index finger into Steve and working him over with his mouth. Steve, rather inarticulately, explains to him that the goal of this whole process is to stretch Steve out so that it doesn’t hurt as much when Bucky--yeah. The whole idea makes Bucky hot all over again, so he focuses on his fingers and his mouth and doesn’t think about what comes next. 

“Put ‘em both in, Bucky. Please.” Steve’s got his forehead pressed against his forearm, his hair darker and hanging in his eyes, damp with sweat. Bucky does as he’s told, feeling out of breath himself. Steve’s tight and hot around the first knuckle of both of his fingers and Bucky’s dick jumps. Bucky gives himself a few pumps with his right hand, groaning as he pushes his fingers further into Steve. Steve pushes back against him and then Bucky’s fingers are all the way in. Steve lets out one dull hiss and then he’s rocking back and forth against Bucky’s fingers, doing all the work for him as Bucky watches, his mouth dry and his dick throbbing painfully in his other hand. 

“ _Jesus_ , Steve.” Bucky curls his fingers inside Steve, trying to slow him down, and Steve makes a sound somewhere between a moan and a squeak. 

“Do that again.” Bucky does as he’s told and then Steve’s only pushing back more earnestly, perfectly in time with the repeated curling of Bucky’s fingers, worrying his forearm with his teeth. “God, Bucky. You gotta fuck me soon, please. I can’t take much more of this.” 

Bucky feels pretty much the same way, squeezing the base of his dick to keep himself from getting too--yeah. “Okay, okay, yeah.” His own voice sounds strange in his ears, raw and desperate. “Tell me what to do, Stevie. Tell me what you want me to do.” 

Steve rolls over on his back and hooks his legs around Bucky’s waist again. “We can do it like this.” Steve reaches up and tucks a strand of Bucky’s hair behind his ears. He’s going to have to get a military cut soon, lose most of his hair. “I want to look at you.” 

“Okay, yeah.” Bucky leans down and catches Steve’s lips in a quick kiss, feeling, absurdly, like he’s kissing fire, Steve’s mouth almost too hot to be against his. “How? You gotta tell me how.” 

Steve lifts his hips, rubbing his dick against Bucky’s stomach. “Think you can figure it out, Buck.” 

Bucky slips on the rubber and rubs a generous amount of vaseline over himself, Steve’s eyes on him making all the air in the room feel August hot again. “You know how you were saying maybe I should lower my expectations? With you sucking me and everything?” Bucky grabs Steve’s ankles with slippery hands, putting both of his feet high up on his shoulders. Steve bends at the knee, digging his heels in, hard. “Same thing here. I don’t know how long I’m gonna be able to make this last, Stevie. You’ve got me pretty worked up.” 

“Don’t worry about it. Just fuck me, Bucky.” 

Steve is so tight around him that Bucky has to stop pressing himself in, already feeling too far gone. Steve digs his heels into his shoulders again, hissing between his teeth, but Bucky can’t move. He bends Steve in half to press their foreheads together. 

“Hold on, Steve. Just hold on, okay? Wanna make this good for you.” Steve’s eyes are wide open and a shocking, crystalline blue, and Bucky’s hips sputter almost involuntarily, forcing him into that tight heat. Steve’s eyes roll up for a second before they’re back to being locked with his, his lips parted so he can breathe hard through his mouth. “Do I feel good, Stevie? Do I feel good inside of you?”

Steve grabs desperately at Bucky’s waist, scraping his nails against him. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, Bucky, fuck me.” 

Bucky rolls his hips once, the floor underneath the mattress creaking with the force. Steve’s body cranes up to meet his, his palms desperate and slippery against Bucky’s lower back, holding him tight against Steve’s body. Bucky rolls his hips again, groaning louder than Steve himself. The floor is practically screaming underneath them as he starts rocking himself into Steve slowly, guided by Steve’s hands opening and closing against his back and the fluttering of those long eyelashes. “You’re so fucking hot, Stevie. So hot around me. You feel perfect.” 

Bucky can feel his orgasm starting in his toes, so he starts rocking more in earnest, practically slamming himself against Steve in wet slaps of skin, and Steve grabs at the back of Bucky’s thighs, throwing his head back hard enough to plunk against the wall. Bucky gets a hand around Steve’s dick, fingers still slippery from the vaseline, and starts pumping in time with his desperate, jerky thrusts, hoping that Steve is at least half as close as he is. He feels simultaneously cold and warm all over, the sweat all over his body like ice water, and he locks eyes with Steve, under those eyelashes, and comes, hard. His entire body feels like it’s screaming, wired through with electricity and screaming. He even hears a high-pitched, screeching sound in his ears. He can feel it everywhere, even in his teeth, every nerve ending responding to Steve. 

And then just as suddenly, all of his muscles feel loose and tired and used up, but he can feel Steve’s body underneath him, taut and desperate, so he stays where he is, shivering as he keeps his hand on Steve’s dick. He swirls his thumb around the head, like Steve had done, and Steve’s heels dig into his shoulders, harder this time. “Fuck, Bucky, yeah. I like that.” 

It doesn’t take long for Steve to follow his lead, coming in streaks across his own chest and stomach, tightening his legs up so much, Bucky has to sink halfway on top of him. Bucky kisses him, hard, practically smashing their mouths together, and he’s never felt like this in his entire life. It’s beyond contentment or pleasure or satisfaction. It’s sort of like the feeling he has when he comes home after an especially long day, but magnified, swelling in his chest so much, it hurts. 

Bucky sinks, bonelessly, onto the crack of the mattress next to Steve, their arms still touching, sticking together in sweat. “That was amazing,” he breathes. “Fuck, maybe we should have done this a long time ago. Good way to keep warm when the furnace goes out.” 

“Not bad for my first time, then?” Steve asks, stretching and yawning, his back cracking. He turns on his side, running a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. 

“Can I tell you something?” Bucky asks, turning over on his side, too. He’s going to be sore in the morning, he can already tell. But probably a good kind of sore. He can’t even imagine how Steve’s going to feel. He lets his fingers run over the bite mark on Steve’s forearm. Deep. Hopefully it doesn’t stay there long. “I’m glad we did this. I was gonna die a virgin, too.” 

Steve punches him in the stomach hard enough to knock the wind out of him. “You liar. You’ve never had sex, either? This whole time, you had me believing I was the only one. That there was something wrong with me that I couldn’t get any of the dames we took out to sleep with me and they wouldn’t sleep with you, either.” He lays flat on his back, thumping his hand against Bucky’s stomach again. “You absolute asshole.” 

“I can get plenty of dames to sleep with me,” Bucky says when he gets his air back. “But maybe I was waiting for the right--person, too. Maybe I wanted my first time to mean something, too.” 

Steve turns back over, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’re a sap, Bucky Barnes.” 

Bucky doesn’t argue.


End file.
